Reading the sad message. Suddenly got it really

Suddenly got it really
From the manager's report,
That uncle is dying in bed
And I would be glad to say goodbye to him.
Reading the sad message
Eugene immediately on a date
Rushed through the mail
And already yawned in advance,
Getting ready for the money
On sighs, boredom and deceit
(And so I began my novel);
But, having arrived in the uncle's village,
I found it on the table
As a tribute to the ready land.

INTERESTING FROM NABOKOV:
The original of this stanza is far from technical perfection. The single-root “preparing” and “ready” are repeated (plus “ready” in the previous stanza), “already” occurs twice. "Dying in bed" - diluted Gallicism.

“And so I began my novel” - The circle is closed (I-LII-I). He covered 52 stanzas ... will continue the story begun in the first two stanzas of the novel; but on that the direct narration that falls to the share of the first chapter will be exhausted (total five stanzas: I-II, LII-LIV).

PISAREV (I finish his invective, dedicated to Onegin's ignoble thoughts about the inheritance that has fallen on him):

...Fawning over Famusov, Molchalin only seeks to ensure that his work is not taken away from him and that he is paid good money for this work. ... When Onegin comes down to his uncle, then he expects from his uncle not work and not a wage, but a handout, which, of course, is incomparably more humiliating for human dignity. Onegin is disgusted with hard work, and as a result of this, every person who is able to work has the full and reasonable right to look at Onegin with contempt, as an eternal undergrowth in mental and moral terms.

MINAEV (D. Minaev also depicted Onegin’s departure to the village in his parody “Eugene Onegin of our time.” After a long break, I present the two final stanzas of the first chapter of this anti-Pisarevsky feuilleton)
14.
Among aimless adventures
He was already bored
But suddenly, one Sunday,
The postman came with a letter.
A friend Lensky wrote to him:
The calm of village life
He described the warmth
And he called him to his village.
Onegin thinks: “I will go!
Let Lensky be stupid, let him be a poet,
But before that I don't care
But he is for every dinner
Serve great wine!
So, I'll go! Decided…”
15.
Oh, lovely Tatyana!
Is misfortune awaiting you?
But it's too early for me to run
With my Onegin forward.
While he is in noisy Petrograd
Gathers dress and notebooks
And fills the purse -
We will rest for a short time:
Then a series of new adventures
Will include further my story.
I will describe in verse for you
"The village where Eugene missed",
How he lived, what he did in the steppe...
Oh my reader, be patient!

LOTMAN:
“A greedy regiment gathered before Onegin” - In this case, the heir could accept the inheritance and, together with him, take on his father’s debts or refuse him, leaving the creditors to settle accounts among themselves. The first decision was dictated by a sense of honor, the desire not to tarnish the good name of the father or to preserve the family estate ... This is exactly what Nikolai Rostov did after the death of his father, driven by feelings of family honor. The frivolous Onegin went the second way.

Receipt of the inheritance was not the last means to correct the frustrated affairs. Restaurateurs, tailors, shopkeepers willingly trusted young people in the hope of their "future income" (V, 6). Therefore, the young man rich family could lead a comfortable existence in St. Petersburg without much money, with hopes of an inheritance and a certain shamelessness. So, Lev Sergeevich, the poet's brother, lived in St. Petersburg without a penny of money, but owed 260 rubles to restaurants, rented an apartment in Engelhardt's house for 1330 rubles. a year, made gifts, led card game(debts were paid later by A. S. Pushkin). Youth - the time of hopes for an inheritance - was, as it were, a legalized period of debts, from which in the second half of life one had to be freed, becoming "the heir<...>their relatives"

MY INSINUATION:
So, the hero leaves Petersburg. We are entering a huge, six-chapter, "village" part of the novel in which all the main events take place - and at first glance it seems that this is what the novel is.

But let's run ahead: at the beginning of the final, eighth chapter, Onegin RETURNS to Petersburg, from which he LEAVES in chapter one, right now, before our eyes.

And remember: the capital, Petersburg - his hometown, in which he grew up, and where, apparently, his whole life will pass - and the "village" part, despite all its vastness IN THE NOVEL, will appear before us as an episode IN Onegin's LIFE - the center of the classic story of "departure and return".

The young man must leave home, pass the test and return - but different, transformed. This triad is the main content of male youth - only after passing through it does he become an adult (previously it was implemented with the help of the army, now - I don’t know how). And the novel is about Onegin passing this test and about his return to his homeland.

He left ironic and cynical, Petersburg seemed to him only a target for satire - and how did he return? It is too early to talk about it, but it has changed.

This, in my opinion, is the main content of the novel, arising from its unobtrusive structure.

ANOTHER OPINION ABOUT THE STROPHE:
Writes petrazmus : A little higher it was said that Onegin himself could tell his story to Pushkin during their meeting in Odessa. Now we can assume why the relationship of friends is much shorter than it seems at first glance. One can understand why Tatyana is also not entirely random. Let's try to substantiate this.
Onegin goes to his uncle by mail, having received a message from the manager about the very poor condition of the old man. Because our hero does not serve, then, having straightened the road (assume that two or three days are spent on this), although he rides headlong, he lets those who are in a hurry to serve and those who are higher in rank go ahead. In other words, he lets everyone through. The speed at which Eugene moves as a result is no more than 100 kilometers per day.
Uncle's village is still not in one day, otherwise there would be mention of visiting uncle, i.e. to it three or four days of travel at least or 350-400 kilometers. He goes, hoping to find his uncle still alive.
Then the following picture is obtained. The manager writes a letter that the uncle is ill, but his death in the very near future (a week and a half) is not obvious. The letter is sent to Petersburg and takes, say, three or four days to reach it (either by mail or by courier). If it went more, then it would be written that there is practically no time. Two or three days for Onegin to prepare for the road and four for the road. He arrives and finds his uncle who has just died.
Total - from sending a letter to arrival takes a maximum of two weeks. This is another proof of the relative proximity to St. Petersburg. We carry out a radius of 350-400 km from the capital.
Further. We recall that the Larins, who live nearby, subsequently go not to St. Petersburg, but to Moscow. This means that Moscow is about the same distance from the village as St. Petersburg, or even a little closer.
Of course, one can object that the Larins have relatives in Moscow. But such families have relatives in both capitals and the choice was dictated, among other things, by the convenience of reaching. All this is written to the fact that the village of Onegin and the Larins is about halfway between Moscow and St. Petersburg, or equally reachable.
So why not choose Mikhailovskoye-Trigorskoye-Svyatogorye for this?
Pushkins-Larins-Onegins - countrymen!!
Their families did not know each other yesterday.
The relationship between them is not just a relationship of acquaintances, but good neighbors who hunted and fasted together, went to each other for Christmas, Christmas, Easter and took children.
This also explains why Pushkin is so close to Onegin that he is privy to his personal experiences. The love (strong human sympathy) of Alexander Sergeevich for Tatyana, and acquaintance with letters (and even possession of them - let's remember the riddle of the previous stanza) are also explained. They could all grow up together. They are connected by almost kindred feelings. And Pushkin, which is why there are so many in the novel!
He is not an outside observer - he is a participant who has not only the right of the author to do so. It was given to him by birth. As a title of nobility /

The conditions of light overthrowing the burden,
How he, lagging behind the hustle and bustle,
I became friends with him at that time.
I liked his features
Dreams involuntary devotion
Inimitable strangeness
And a sharp, chilled mind.
I was embittered, he is sullen;
We both knew the passion game;
The life tormented both of us;
In both hearts the heat died down;
Anger awaited both
Blind Fortune and people
In the very morning of our days.

XLVI

Who lived and thought, he cannot
In the soul do not despise people;
Who felt, that worries
The ghost of the irretrievable days:
There are no more charms
That serpent of memories
That repentance gnaws.
All this often gives
Great charm of conversation.
First Onegin's language
Confused me; but I'm used to
To his caustic argument,
And for a joke, with bile in half,
And the anger of gloomy epigrams.

XLVII

How often in the summer
When transparent and light
Night sky over the Neva
And waters cheerful glass
Does not reflect the face of Diana,
Remembering past years novels,
Remembering the old love
Sensitive, careless again
With the breath of a supportive night
We silently drank!
Like a green forest from prison
The sleepy convict has been moved,
So we were carried away by a dream
By the beginning of life young.

XLVIII

With a heart full of regrets
And leaning on granite
Yevgeny stood thoughtfully,
As piit described himself.
Everything was quiet; only night
Sentinels called to one another;
Yes, a distant knock
With Millionne it suddenly resounded;
Only a boat, waving oars,
Floated on a dormant river:
And we were captivated in the distance
The horn and the song are remote ...
But sweeter, in the midst of nightly fun,
The chant of Torquat octaves!

XLIX

Adriatic waves,
Oh Brent! no, I see you
And, full of inspiration again,
Hear your magical voice!
He is holy to the grandchildren of Apollo;
By the proud lyre of Albion
He is familiar to me, he is dear to me.
Golden nights of Italy
I will enjoy the bliss at will
With a young Venetian
Now talkative, then dumb,
Floating in a mysterious gondola;
With her my mouth will find
The language of Petrarch and love.

L

Will the hour of my freedom come?
It's time, it's time! - I call to her;
Wandering over the sea, waiting for the weather,
Manyu sails ships.
Under the robe of storms, arguing with the waves,
Along the freeway of the sea
When will I start freestyle running?
It's time to leave the boring beach
I hostile elements,
And among the midday swells,
Under the sky of my Africa,
Sigh about gloomy Russia,
Where I suffered, where I loved
Where I buried my heart.

LI

Onegin was ready with me
See foreign countries;
But soon we were fate
Divorced for a long time.
His father then died.
Gathered before Onegin
Lenders greedy regiment.
Everyone has their own mind and sense:
Eugene, hating litigation,
Satisfied with his lot,
gave them an inheritance,
Big loss in not seeing
Ile foretelling from afar
The death of the old uncle.

LII

Suddenly got it really
From the manager's report,
That uncle is dying in bed
And I would be glad to say goodbye to him.
Reading the sad message
Eugene immediately on a date
Rushed through the mail
And already yawned in advance,
Getting ready for the money
On sighs, boredom and deceit
(And so I began my novel);
But, having arrived in the uncle's village,
I found it on the table
As a tribute ready to the earth.

LIII

He found the yard full of services;
To the dead from all sides
Enemies and friends gathered
Funeral hunters.
The deceased was buried.
Priests and guests ate and drank
And after importantly parted,
As if they were doing business.
Here is our Onegin - a villager,
Factories, waters, forests, lands
The owner is complete, but hitherto
The order of the enemy and the waster,
And I am very glad that the old way
Changed to something.

LIV

Two days seemed new to him
solitary fields,
The coolness of the gloomy oak,
The murmur of a quiet stream;
On the third grove, hill and field
He was no longer interested;
Then they would induce sleep;
Then he saw clearly
As in the village boredom is the same
Although there are no streets, no palaces,
No cards, no balls, no poetry.
The blues was waiting for him on guard,
And she ran after him
Like a shadow or a faithful wife.

LV

I was born for a peaceful life
For rural silence:
In the wilderness, the lyrical voice is louder,
Live creative dreams.
Leisure devotion to the innocent,
Wandering over the desert lake
AND far niente my law.
I wake up every morning
For sweet bliss and freedom:
I read little, I sleep a lot,
I do not catch flying glory.
Isn't it me in the old days
Spent in inaction, in the shadows
My happiest days?

LVI

Flowers, love, village, idleness,
Fields! I am devoted to you in soul.
I'm always glad to see the difference
Between Onegin and me
To the mocking reader
Or any publisher
Intricate slander
Matching here my features,
I did not repeat later shamelessly,
That I smeared my portrait,
Like Byron, poet of pride,
As if we can't
Write poems about others
As soon as about himself.

LVII

I note by the way: all poets -
Love dreamy friends.
Used to be cute things
I dreamed and my soul
She kept their secret image;
After the muse revived them:
So I, careless, chanted
And the girl of the mountains, my ideal,
And the captives of the banks of the Salgir.
Now from you my friends
I often hear the question:
“About whom does your lyre sigh?
To whom, in the crowd of jealous maidens,
Did you dedicate a chant to her?

LVIII

Whose gaze, exciting inspiration,
He rewarded with touching affection
Your thoughtful singing?
Whom did your verse idolize?
And, others, no one, by God!
Love crazy anxiety
I have experienced it remorselessly.
Blessed is he who combined with her
The fever of rhymes: he doubled that
Poetry sacred nonsense,
Petrarch walking after
And calmed the torment of the heart,
Caught and fame meanwhile;
But I, loving, was stupid and mute.

My uncle of the most honest rules,
When I fell ill in earnest,
He forced himself to respect
And I couldn't think of a better one.

EO, Ch. 1, I

And what does it say? Is it possible to retell it in your own words?

These lines are often quoted, especially in the press. Let's say the goalkeeper takes a penalty - an article immediately appears about how he "forced himself to be respected" by this! But the venerable Pushkinists, as one, keep deathly silence on this matter.

“And everyone - absolutely everything: fathers, mothers, grandmothers, grandfathers, children, grandchildren, actors, readers, directors, translators into other languages, and even researchers of Pushkin, - unanimously carried a nonsense about an uncle of high moral qualities, who finally forced himself to be respected , or began to look for another, fantastic meaning.

Got something? I only understood that it was not worthwhile to climb into the Kalash row with a pig's snout, trying to understand the meaning of the lines of our folk poet. In other words, Pushkin is for God-chosen researchers who know exactly what and why the poet wrote, but do not want to explain it in their own words, since the subject of a scientific dispute is too subtle for the uninitiated. By the way, instead of answering the same question, the venerable Pushkinist preferred to step aside, turning his attention to some mediocre proofreader, who once put a comma instead of a semicolon after the word “got sick”. And thus killed the whole Pushkin's plan.

Well, perhaps - the scientist knows better. Only the question, in the end, remained unanswered: what does the phrase “I forced myself to respect” mean anyway? At least with a comma, at least with something else ... Really absolutely nothing?

I did not find the answer to this question in any phraseological or other dictionary. On one of the forums I happened to see a link to the book by M.I. Michelson Russian Thought and Speech. Experience of Russian phraseology. Own and someone else's" of the century before last. Say, there it is! He was delighted, rushed to search, managed to find it, discovered it - alas ... There is nothing about it there.

At the same time, many interlocutors immediately gave an answer that seems to me to be correct, and I will try to get to the justification of which a little later. They were so ... taught at school! Probably, once there were teachers who loved their subject and honestly tried to understand it. And even today, in the newly published versions of Onegin, in some places there are modern comments that neither Brodsky, nor Nabokov, nor Lotman had ... But I wanted to “invent the wheel” on my own.

The result of the "invention" is below.

Let's start with "fair rules". All researchers nod at Krylov's fable "The Donkey and the Man", the tailed hero of which was just "the most honest rules." They also say that even without this fable, this phraseology was recognizable in those days.

Let's remember the fable:

Man for the summer in the garden
Having hired the Donkey, he assigned
Ravens and sparrows drive a sassy kind.
The donkey had the most honest rules:
Unfamiliar with rapacity or theft:
He did not profit from the master's leaf,
And the birds, it's a sin to say that he gave a prank;
But the profit from the garden was bad for the Muzhik.
Donkey, chasing birds, from all donkey legs,
Along all the ridges and along and across,
Raised such a leap
That in the garden he crushed and trampled everything.
Seeing here that his work was gone,
Peasant on the back of a donkey
He avenged the loss with a club.
"And nothing!" everyone is shouting: “Cattle deserve it!
With his mind
Take on this business?"
And I will say, not in order to intercede for the Donkey;
He, for sure, is to blame (a calculation has been made with him),
But it seems that he is not right,
Who instructed the Donkey to guard his garden.

I note that Krylov's Donkey is a decent creature. After all, he "... is not familiar with rapacity or theft: he did not profit from the master's sheet." Ordered to guard - he goes and guards as best he can. A kind of disinterested and naive worker - we, as a rule, do not respect such people. And, worse than that - it hurts! An honest Donkey, for example, was beaten with a club on the back ... Only after that, Krylov partially removed the blame from him and noticed that it would not be bad to ask the Dunce-Man, who foolishly hired the wrong performer.

Respected in the end, in general.

Onegin, as we know, honored his uncle with the same epithets as Krylov his Donkey. What kind of troubles the old man had - it doesn’t matter: the main thing is that in the end he also “got seriously ill”. And - alas! - only when a person dies or, even worse, has already died, all sorts of “pleasant things” begin to pour in his address, which he lacked so much during his lifetime. As a show of belated respect.

What does the word "respect" mean? According to Dahl's dictionary - “to honor, honor, sincerely recognize someone's virtues; appreciate highly... By the way, already in our time, Faina Ranevskaya said: “In order to receive recognition, it is necessary, even necessary, to die” ...

In my opinion, it was precisely this simple meaning that Pushkin put into Onegin's mouth. It's simple - "I forced myself to respect" means: "died"! For this is a guaranteed way to hear something respectful about yourself, even from those who have always hated you.

Onegin did not give a damn about his uncle all his life - just like everyone else. And he rushed to him exclusively "for the sake of money", in the depths of his soul sincerely wishing that he was dead ("When will the devil take you?").

Suddenly got it really
From the manager's report,
That uncle is dying in bed
And I would be glad to say goodbye to him.
Reading the sad message
Eugene immediately on a date
Rushed through the mail
And already yawned in advance,
Getting ready for the money
On sighs, boredom and deceit
(And so I began my novel);

Well, he really didn’t want to “amuse the half-dead” ... And then - a gift of fate: the uncle turned out to be a fine fellow and quickly died before his arrival!

But, having arrived in the uncle's village,
I found it on the table
As a tribute to the ready land.

Onegin is absolutely sincerely grateful to him for this: after all, out of all the options for the development of events, uncle chose the ideal one!

And I couldn't think of a better one.
His example to others is science;

- Well done, old man! Onegin grins to himself. - I respect!

Rejoice early. If everything is so good, then why is this "But":

His example to others is science;
But my god, what a bore
Sitting with the sick...

And it doesn't matter anymore, because the "but" is preceded by a semicolon! The thought is over, the next one begins. There is no opposition. Here is a similar example from the fifth chapter of the same Onegin:

What joy: there will be a ball!
The girls are jumping in advance;
But food was served.
EO, Ch.5, XXVIII

The ball is not canceled by the upcoming dinner: everything has its time. So it is here: the death of an old uncle is not canceled by arguments about how disgusting it would be for Onegin to sit with a lean physiognomy by his bed. Bored Evgeny is inclined to philosophizing and simply reflects on what would happen if ...

Reading the sad message
Eugene immediately on a date
Rushed through the mail
And already yawned in advance,
Getting ready for the money
On sighs, boredom and deceit
(And so I began my novel);

It turns out that the hints of confidence in the death of the uncle seem to be out of place ... But the novel does not begin with the first stanza of the first chapter, but with the epigraph:

Eugene Onegin
Novel in verse

Petri de vanite il avait encore plus de cette espece d'orgueil qui fait avouer avec la meme indifference les bonnes comme les mauvaises actions, suite d'un sentiment de supériorite peut-etre imaginaire.

Tire d'une lettre particulière

Imbued with vanity, he also possessed that special pride that prompts him to confess with the same indifference both his good and bad deeds - a consequence of a feeling of superiority, perhaps imaginary. From a private letter (French).

Thus, the first thing we are told once again is that people like Onegin indifferently admit that they are doing bad things. Yes, Eugene rushed headlong to sigh and lie for the sake of money. And only then, having made sure that he really inherited his uncle's farm, "the heir to all his relatives" immediately flew off somewhere "in the dust on the mail." Where? Most likely, to the notary! Or settling affairs in the city before moving to the countryside for a long time. That is, in any case - not to the uncle, but from the uncle.

impolite? There, the commemoration is in full swing: the priests and guests are eating and drinking... Yes, the "young rake" did not act very well. And what do you want from him: a rake, according to Dahl's dictionary, is "an impolite, impudent naughty."

So thought the young rake,
Flying in the dust on postage,
By the will of Zeus
Heir of all his relatives.

And everything shows that Onegin is in a good mood. He did not have to humiliate himself in order to become the owner of "factories, waters, forests, lands."

And now let's try to write a mini-essay on the content of the first stanza in our own words.

My uncle is an honest but narrow-minded old hard worker. He, sensing his imminent death, immediately died without giving anyone any trouble. If everyone followed this example, then the world would get rid of the sanctimonious pretense of those who would be forced to hang around the bedside of useless capricious patients for the sake of their inheritance, cursing everything in the world and wishing to die to hell as soon as possible!

It is clear that Pushkin expressed all this more gracefully and briefly.

By the way, one respected researcher of his work, whom I “brought” with my interest in this issue, came to the conclusion that “I forced myself to respect” is an idiom introduced by Pushkin.

It may very well be. Therefore, with thoughtless quoting, you need to be careful. The goalkeeper mentioned at the beginning, who took a penalty, may be offended by this. However, he is unlikely to be interested in such issues ...

Read.

A) While my horses were being harnessed, I was inquisitive, examining the papers that had come to me.<…>Among the many ordinances relating to the restoration, as far as possible, of equality among citizens, I have found table of ranks. <…>But now the arch of the root horse is already ringing the bell and calling me to leave; and for this purpose, I decided for the good to better discuss what is more profitable for a rider at the post office, for the horses to trot or amble, or what is more profitable for mail nag, to be a pacer or a horse? rather than doing something that doesn't exist.

(A.N. Radishchev, "Journey from St. Petersburg to Moscow")

B) Reading the sad message
[…] immediately on a date
Headlong jumped by mail
And already yawned in advance,
Getting ready for the money
To sighs, boredom and deceit ...

1. Explain what the underlined expressions mean.
2. Write the name of the author of passage B) and the name of the protagonist of the work, omitted in passage B).
3. Imagine that horses are endowed with the gift of speech. Write a monologue for a mail horse: how does it live, who has to be transported, how is it treated. Mention other works of Russian literature that mention postal horses. Volume - 150-200 words.

Answers and evaluation criteria

1. "Table of Ranks"- a document in the form of a table that established the correspondence between civil, military, spiritual and scientific ranks.

Put into circulation by decree of Peter I in 1722 (1 point).

"Mail nag"- A horse at a post station. Postal system

stations established by the state for quick communication between settlements. Horses were changed at stations located several tens of miles apart, which made it possible to travel almost without stopping (2 points).

"Jumped by mail"– used the system of postal stations for travel (1 point).

1. A.S. Pushkin, "Eugene Onegin" (0.5 points), Eugene (0.5 points).
2. Post horse monologue.

Task 2. HOLISTIC TEXT ANALYSIS

Vasily Andreevich Zhukovsky (1783–1852)

ULLIN AND HIS DAUGHTER

There was a strong whirlwind, heavy rain;
Boiling, the abyss raged;
To the shore of Reno, mountain leader,
Rushed with Ullin's daughter.

“Fisherman, take us to your boat;
Fisherman, save us from the chase;
Ullin and his retinue are not far away:
We hear screams; horses run."

“Do you see how evil the water is?
Can you hear how loud the waves are?
Starting to swim is now trouble:
My boat is not strong, the oars are breaking.

“Fisherman, fisherman, give your boat;
Save us: no matter how evil the abyss,
Mercy can be from the waves -
It will not come from Ullin!”

The storm is stronger, the abyss is more evil,
And closer, closer the noise of the chase;
They hear the heavy snoring of horses,
They can hear the sound of swords on armor.

"Sit down in good hour; we're sailing."
And Rino sat down, the maiden sat down with him;
The fisherman set sail; shuttle
The gray abyss took over.

And death from everywhere to them: open
Before them is the greedy mouth of the abyss;
Behind them from the shore threatens
Ullin, like a merciless storm.

Ullin galloped to the shore;
He sees: the daughter is carried away by the waves;
And the anger in my father's chest disappeared,
And he exclaimed, full of fear:

“My child, back, back!
Forgiveness! come back, Malvina!"
But the waves only make noise in response
At the call of desperate Ullin.

Thunderstorm roars, black as night;
The boat flies between the waves;
Through their foam he sees his daughter
With outstretched hands to him.

"Oh, come back, come back!"
But the abyss resounded menacingly,
And the waves, having devoured the boat, merged
At the plaintive cry of Ullin.

For ease of assessment, we suggest focusing on the school four-point system. So, when assessing according to the first criterion, 0 points correspond to a “two”, 5 points to a “three”, 10 points to a “four” and 15 points to a “five”. Of course, intermediate options are possible (for example, 8 points correspond to a “four with a minus”).

The maximum score for all completed tasks is 70.

Hello dear.
Today we are finally finishing Chapter 1 of the great novel by Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin, and I hope that reading and analyzing it brings you as much pleasure as it does me :-))) I apologize to those who will be somewhat frapped by my impudence and familiarity in relation to the "Lamp of Russian Poetry". I'm not evil. I have great respect for Alexander Sergeevich, and consider him a pure and sunny genius. But a little trolling won't hurt :-)
We discussed the previous part with you here:
So...

Will the hour of my freedom come?
It's time, it's time! - I call to her;
Wandering over the sea, waiting for the weather,
Manyu sails ships.
Under the robe of storms, arguing with the waves,
Along the freeway of the sea
When will I start freestyle running?
It's time to leave the boring beach
I hate the elements
And among the midday swells,
Under the sky of my Africa,
Sigh about gloomy Russia,
Where I suffered, where I loved
Where I buried my heart.

Onegin was ready with me
See foreign countries;
But soon we were fate
On long term divorced.
His father then died.
Gathered before Onegin
Lenders greedy regiment.
Everyone has their own mind and sense:
Eugene, hating litigation,
Satisfied with his lot,
gave them an inheritance,
Big loss in not seeing
Ile foretelling from afar
The death of the old uncle.

A. P. Hannibal

Pushkin recalls the origin of his great-grandfather, the famous Arap Peter the Great - Abram Petrovich Hannibal, who, apparently, was a descendant of Abyssinian (Ethiopian) blood, hence "My Africa". Further, we almost return to the very beginning of the novel, and only one moment has always raised a question in me. Look, Eugene's father went bankrupt, Onegin himself did not serve anywhere and did not engage in any income-generating activities. He didn’t waste his inheritance, so why did he live? Apparently only in debt, because I don’t see any other options. so he desperately needed his uncle's money ....

Suddenly got it really
From the manager's report,
That uncle is dying in bed
And I would be glad to say goodbye to him.
Reading the sad message
Eugene immediately on a date
Rushed through the mail
And already yawned in advance,
Getting ready for the money
On sighs, boredom and deceit
(And so I began my novel);
But, having arrived in the uncle's village,
I found it on the table
As a tribute to the ready land.

He found the yard full of services;
To the dead from all sides
Enemies and friends gathered
Funeral hunters.
The deceased was buried.
Priests and guests ate and drank
And after importantly parted,
As if they were doing business.
Here is our Onegin - a villager,
Factories, waters, forests, lands
The owner is complete, but hitherto
The order of the enemy and the waster,
And I am very glad that the old way
Changed to something.

Our uncle, it turns out, was sooooo not a poor landowner, and Eugene, as the only heir, got a lot. By the way, I can imagine what kind of pictures in your imagination the line "jumping by mail" caused. No, Evgeny didn’t work as a hooligan and didn’t climb the roof of a government institution - he just took state-owned horses, which we already talked about earlier.

Two days seemed new to him
solitary fields,
The coolness of the gloomy oak,
The murmur of a quiet stream;
On the third grove, hill and field
He was no longer interested;
Then they would induce sleep;
Then he saw clearly
As in the village boredom is the same
Although there are no streets, no palaces,
No cards, no balls, no poetry.
The blues was waiting for him on guard,
And she ran after him
Like a shadow or a faithful wife.

As a matter of fact, as an idle person and incapable of creation, not of joy, Eugene even here began to do what he loved most - to mope. And it's not about financial well-being / failure. It seems to be a state of mind :-)

I was born for a peaceful life
For rural silence;
In the wilderness, the lyrical voice is louder,
Live creative dreams.
Leisure devotion to the innocent,
Wandering over the desert lake
And far niente is my law.
I wake up every morning
For sweet bliss and freedom:
I read little, I sleep a lot,
I do not catch flying glory.
Isn't it me in the old days
Spent in inaction, in the shadows
My happiest days?

Flowers, love, village, idleness,
Fields! I am devoted to you in soul.
I'm always glad to see the difference
Between Onegin and me
To the mocking reader
Or any publisher
Intricate slander
Matching here my features,
I did not repeat later shamelessly,
That I smeared my portrait,
Like Byron, poet of pride,
As if we can't
Write poems about others
As soon as about himself.
Well, actually, there is no need to explain anything. Pushkin, as he says, loves time far niente, that is, doing nothing. Well, well ... well, well ... :-)

I note by the way: all poets -
Love dreamy friends.
Used to be cute things
I dreamed and my soul
She kept their secret image;
After the muse revived them:
So I, careless, chanted
And the girl of the mountains, my ideal,
And the captives of the banks of the Salgir.
Now from you my friends
I often hear the question:
“About whom does your lyre sigh?
To whom, in the crowd of jealous maidens,
Did you dedicate a chant to her?

Whose gaze, exciting inspiration,
He rewarded with touching affection
Your thoughtful singing?
Whom did your verse idolize?
And, others, no one, by God!
Love crazy anxiety
I have experienced it remorselessly.
Blessed is he who combined with her
The fever of rhymes: he doubled that
Poetry sacred nonsense,
Petrarch walking after
And calmed the torment of the heart,
Caught and fame meanwhile;
But I, loving, was stupid and mute.

Who is talking about what, but Pushkin is about virgins .... An amateur, however :-) The maiden of the mountains is a Circassian woman in the Prisoner of the Caucasus, and the captives of the banks of the Salgir are Maria and Zarema in the Bakhchisarai Fountain. A sort of cross-posting of the 19th century on itself :-))

Passed love, the muse appeared,
And the dark mind cleared.
Free, again looking for an alliance
Magic sounds, feelings and thoughts;
I write, and my heart does not yearn,
The pen, forgetting, does not draw,
Close to unfinished verses
No women's legs, no heads;
The extinguished ashes will no longer flare up,
I'm sad; but there are no more tears
And soon, soon the storm will follow
In my soul it will completely subside:
Then I'll start writing
A poem of twenty-five songs.

Again legs .... though also heads. Heads and legs :-)

I was already thinking about the shape of the plan
And as a hero I will name;
While my romance
I finished the first chapter;
Revisited it all rigorously:
There are a lot of contradictions
But I don't want to fix them.
I will pay my debt to censorship
And journalists to eat
I will give the fruits of my labors:
Go to the Neva shores
newborn creation,
And earn me glory tribute:
Crooked talk, noise and abuse!

On this we will finish the first part, dear. But the second is not far off :-)
Have a nice time of the day.